Malfoy
by ObsessiveCompulsiveforhp
Summary: Super AU Fifth Year Harry Potter has reached the end of his rope, and turns to an unlikely source for support and comfort.
1. Chapter 1

"Can I go home with you?"

He had to have lost his mind. Here he was, standing inches away from a known death eater and their family, all of whom gazed at him as if he had truly lost his mind.

But he hadn't. Harry was perfectly sane. Desperate, but sane.

He had stood on the platform for nearly an hour, shrouded in his invisibility cloak. The Weasleys had stayed nearly that long, looking for him to come off the train. He'd avoided Ron and Hermione by sitting in a lav near the end of the train, locked in a stall, hiding under his cloak. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends, he did, but the panic he'd avoided all school year had all come crashing down on him the night before.  
_'You come back here, boy, and you'll start earning your keep, alright?'_

Vernon's words. They'd echoed in his head over and over at the beginning of the school year, but the safety of the castle had washed away that fear, and it wasn't until he'd realized that term ended in two days that the fear came back.

And he'd gone to Dumbledore. The he'd done his best to explain, and to tell the old man everything that his relatives made him do on a daily basis, the things he saw his uncle do with 'customers', the way his uncle said he'd have his own, come summer.

and just as he'd done Harry's first year, Dumbledore swept it under the rug. _'You must be mistaken, my boy. Vernon cannot hurt you. You are perfectly safe within those walls as long as you call them home. Besides, they are your family. Every child deserves to live with family.'_

It didn't seem to matter that Vernon was anything BUT family, and that he'd hated harry's guts since he first laid eyes on him. It also didn't seem to matter that Hogwarts was home, or very near it, but number four, privet drive never had been.

So he'd panicked, and avoided Ron and Hermione because they had homes and he was about to become very, very disgusting and it was better that he cut ties with them now so as not to infect them later. he;d hidden and prepared himself to step off the train and up to Vernon and learn to earn his keep, because he'd run out of options. but he'd stepped off the train and promptly frozen.

He didn't want to do it. He was so against the situation that his magic rebelled at the very idea, holding him in place till he thought of another option.

Harry didn't think his magic expected him to choose the Malfoys, but he also wasn't going to give it a chance to object.

Standing in front of them now, seeing that minute curl of Malfoy Senior's upper lip, Harry knew this was the right option. Something about this FIT.

"I can cook. And clean. And I hardly take up any space. You'll never know I'm there."

"Mr. Potter - "

"And, and, Dumbledore hates you. Really, if you take me home it'll piss him off and that's always a good thing, right?" Just because he had a good idea did not mean the panic had subsided any. If anything it had gotten worse, because now his brain had something tangible to latch itself onto. "And, you, you're Sirius' cousin, right? You have to protect me, don't you? I'm his heir. It's a family thing, right, protecting the house or something?"

"Mr. Potter, just what - "

"And, and I can study really hard and do Draco's homework. I never study and I pass all my classes but if I put my mind to it I can do as well as he does or better I swear."

"Potter - "

"And, and, I heard, someone said you like boys and I don't really know what I like but I can, you can use me, or something, till you figure it out but if I go with my uncle he's gonna make me do that anyway and I don't want to, i don't and i told Dumbeldore but he doesn't care - "

"Harry - "

"Potter breathe - "

"Mrs. Malfoy, Mrs. i swear I won't be trouble I swear it I'd go to Sirius but Dumbledore'd make him send me right back and my aunt would kill me she would and my uncle make me have customers and some of them are so mean, sometimes he screams and I can't I CAN'T - "

"Alright." His vision blurred, filled with the dark green of someone's robes and there were hands in his hair and then "Lucius, use the portkey, NOW" and then his world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Sorry! My brain does not like me. This idea popped into my head while I worked on a chapter of the Petunia redumption fic I mentioned a while ago, and like all ideas i just don't know how to say no. hope you guys aren't sick of me yet!_

He awoke in a bed, in a large, airy room with more curtains than were strictly necessary in any room, considering there were only three windows. Harry sat up, feeling the mattress beneath him adjust to his intentions, which was just weird, in his mind, but he supposed magical beds were a little weird and this most definitely wasn't the Weasleys or the Dursleys so maybe the Malfoy's really had -

"You're awake. Good. I had hoped you hadn't taken ill."

Narcissa Malfoy sat not three feet away from him in a massively towering armchair covered in a deep green upholstery over-layed by gold snakes that seemed to move but probably weren't it was just his nerves getting the best of him and he really should answer, in case he made her think he was stupid or something.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Remember to speak when spoken to, child, and this interview will progress much easier for you."

"Yes Ma'am." It was awkward, sitting there where the only real thing harry could do was fidget with his fingers, but he grabbed a hold of himself, and shifted around on the bed till they faced each other, even if he did have to look at her shoulder every so often because her eyes were so intense.

"Do you remember what you said on the platform?"

"Yes ma'am." Shame tried to worm itself into his psyche but he stomped it down, determined not to mess this up. He'd admitted more than he'd ever planned to, ever to anyone, but he couldn't undo that now, didn't really want to, saying it out loud had made it easier to think about, somehow, and if the Malfoy's didn't help him he was going to the Prophet. And then to the United States. He was sure the magical government there wouldn't turn him over to Vernon. After that he didn't want to think about the options.

"You remember what you said about your uncle."

"My aunt's husband, yes ma'am."

"Can you explain? You briefly touched on a matter that can only be properly considered if one has all the facts, you understand." Her face was pale, calm, cold almost, and Harry let himself squirm a little bit. Definitely not Mrs. Weasley, or anything like her. It was awkward enough without her staring right at him, but he knew she had no inclination to look away.

"My uncle works at a drill making company in Muggle London. He's taken a lower position at work lately because his department got downsized, and his salary can't cover all the debts he owes, so he, he sells himself, sexual favours to make up the difference. I'm, everything that goes wrong is my fault, somehow, to him, so I usually get punished for things I don't have anything to do with. He told me when he dropped me off at the platform in September that I cost too much to take care of, and that if I come back I'm going to have to earn my keep like he does."

"Has your uncle ever approached you in this way before?"

"No ma'am."

"Has he ever pressured your for sexual favors, Harry?" The use of his name shocked him, and bringing his eyes up to meet hers.

"No ma'am, he hasn't."

Narcissa nodded, a single fine wrinkle decorating the corner of her mouth. "How were you punished at your aunt's?"

He couldn't look at her for this. Harry knew, instinctively, the way they treated him was wrong and that none of it was his fault, but he still couldn't talk about it without feeling like anyone who'd hear it would think that he was exactly what Vernon said, a freak.

"Usually, usually it was just no food, I wasn't allowed to eat if I missed a chore or didn't finish a chore or took too long or stood in one place for too long. If my aunt felt like it and if I didn't move fast enough she'd hit me with something, whatever was closest at hand, and I'd be locked in my cupboard whenever it was convenient. And if I ran they'd let Dudley get at me, but I learned to avoid him."

"Dudley?"

"My cousin. Their son."

"And your cupboard?"

"It was, it was my room. Kind of cramped but it was mine, so it really wasn't a real punishment unless they left me in there for days."

"Was it a real cupboard?"

"No, not really. The little boot cupboard under the stairs. I can still fit in it, even."

"You're making excuses, child."

He fidgeted. He was. "I'm sorry."

"How long have they treated you this way?"

"Since always, ma'am. They never wanted me."

They were silent for a moment, each lost in their thoughts, before Narcissa shifted, and asked, "What exactly did Dumbledore say when you told him about your uncle?"

Harry flexed his feet, before shifting to the edge of the bed and letting them hang over, still beneath the blankets.

"He said that I was overreacting. I told him about everything, how they've always treated me. He said they couldn't hurt me because of the wards and that they're my family and every child should live with their family. He listened...but he didn't really listen."

"I see." She gave his bouncing feet a steady look, and Harry froze. "You mentioned Sirius Black?"

"Oh! Yeah, Sirius is innocent. He didn't kill Pettigrew and he didn't turn my parents over to the Dark Lord." The whole story came tumbling out, and by the end Narcissa was most certainly shocked, even if he could only tell by the tiniest shift in her eyebrows. "But Dumbledore won't let him leave. I know its dangerous, but he hates that house. I think it reminds him of Azkaban."

"I doubt that." Something about her voice made him look up, and her eyebrows rose. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

Harry thought. He really should tell her about the parseltongue thing, but he was pretty sure that Draco had already told her ages ago. There were the nightmares he still had occasionally about Cedric, that Vernon had crept his way into now and again, but that was fairly standard. He could tell her about the Chamber of Secr - oh.

"Voldemort's a halfblood."

Mrs. Malfoy blinked at him, the blood draining out of her face. Harry felt himself shiver in genuine concern; was she alright?

"Rule number one, Mr. Potter: you will NOT say that name in this house, do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Now, explain."

And Harry did.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd been staring at the intricate ceiling carvings for about an hour before Draco came in.

Sauntered in. Walked in like he owned the place, really.

Harry'd taken a long, indulgent bath after Narcissa ordered him to, had found his clothing all clean and hung in the wardrobe, except his hand-me-downs, those had been replaced by shirts, trousers and jumpers in his size. He knew they were meant for him because they were all at least three sizes too small for Draco, who was both taller and broader than he was, and each and every new piece of clothing had a small '_H_' embroidered in the seam. So he'd dressed himself and attempted to do some of his summer work. He'd completed a draft of his charms essay before a fit of boredom had settled over him, and so he returned to the bed to mope.

Harry continued to stare at the ceiling, causing the youngest Malfoy to walk further into the room. Draco sidled up the edge of the bed silently. After a moment of stoic silence his arm wrapped around the bedpost, which was as wide around as Harry's whole body. Just when Harry thought he would have to prompt the boy to speak, Draco broke the silence.

"Thanks for outing me, yesterday. I appreciate it."

Harry blinked, the pattern on the ceiling superimposed on the inside of his eyelids. "I didn't realize it was true. I thought it was a rumour."

"Yes, well, Father is furious he has less than two years to find me a amenable bride and I've had to sit through the most embarrassing three hours of my life. I swear you cause nothing but trouble, Potter."

Harry fidgeted. "Sorry."

"Merlin's pants, Potter. What's gotten into you? Where's the annoying Gryffindor Golden Boy?"

"He never existed, Malfoy," Harry said tiredly.

"Draco." Harry blinked, turning to finally look at the boy. "You're here this long, might as well use my first name."

"Then it's 'Harry' and not 'Potter'."

"Bloody Gryffindor." Draco shifted, pushing off from the bedpost and gesturing around. "Are you going to lay here all day or actually do something?"

"I did my charms essay."

"Potter, we've been out of school for one day! Are you sure you're not Granger in disguise?"

"Positive." Harry's smile was sad. Hermione had looked all over the train for him. "I just needed something to do."

"Well come on then. I can get the house elves to feed us."

"I-I'm not supposed to leave this room, am I?"

"Why the hell not? You're not a bloody prisoner, Potter!"

"It's Harry!"

"Get _up_!"

"How come you're being nice to me?"

They lay stretched out under a massive tree on the grounds, it's roots twisting and twining over each other above the ground, covered in moss and soft grass and making perfect lounging seats for their picnic. Draco had indeed gotten the elves to feed them, and had no qualms in using Harry's face to get them to slip in extra sweets, most of which he claimed for himself.

"I don't do nice, Potter."

"It's Harry. And you haven't insulted me yet. Or made fun of my uncle wanting to sell me, or finding boys attractive - "

"Which would be hypocritical, since I too find boys attractive."

"Never stopped you before. But really, what are you plotting?"

"Nothing, Harry. You've been tolerable so far, and I see no reason to seek to change that."

"A diplomatic Malfoy. Will wonders ever cease?"

Draco glared and pelted him with a biscuit. "You should appreciate me, Potter. I've given you finger sandwiches."

"And stolen all the crepes."

"You don't even know what a crepe _is_, plebeian."

"And you're still a git."

"Mmm. Well-bred though."

Harry crammed a sandwich into his mouth to keep from asking the question he'd been trying not to ask since they settled under the tree. Well, the second question, because the first as if the tree had been grown by magic or if it was truly as old as it looked. But Draco had said he'd been 'here this long' and Harry's brain had started thinking. Was that a good thing? Did it mean they were getting closer to a decision? Harry didn't know, and he wasn't sure how to go about asking about it.

"Do you think your parent's have made a decision?"

Draco looked at him, the biscuit he'd been eating inches away from his mouth. "I don't think they've made a decision as yet. They'd have told you by now."

Harry tried not to fidget, but Draco saw him anyway. "It's not necessarily a bad thing, that they're still thinking about it all. You realize they actually _do_ have a rather important decision to make? Not only are you asking them to hide you from Dumbledore, you're asking them to cross the dark lord - "

"He's just an angry muggleborn, Draco. He's not a pureblood."

Draco took a moment to absorb that, blinking once, before continuing. "Fine, but you cannot deny that he's powerful. If nothing else he's inspired a level of loyalty that is dangerous to us if they do decide to defect."

"If they don't? Will you join him if they stay with him?"

Draco was quiet. "No, no I won't. I've seen the way he treats them. Father came back from a meeting a few weeks ago," here he shot Harry a look, "he was terribly injured. He told mother the dark lord was annoyed with Pettigrew. _Pettigrew_. why'd he attack everyone else then? Punishment? That's madness! I can't follow that. I won't."

"I must admit it warms me to hear you say that."

Both boys jumped up, scrabbling to hide the mounds of food they'd brought out, and the biscuits they were munching on.

"Mr. Malfoy."

"Father!"

"Draco, Mr. Potter. I trust you're enjoying your lunch?"

"Yes sir," they murmured in unison. Draco shot Harry a look over his shoulder, to which Harry furtively shook his head, but not before he saw Mr. Malfoy smirk in amusement.

"Mr. Potter, if you're done with your lunch, may I speak with you privately?"

"Yes, sir." Lucius gestured a little to the left and Harry took the small reprieve to cram another biscuit in his mouth, and another few sandwiches into the pocket of his slacks. Rude or plebeian or not, those sandwiches were _good_.

They walked for more than five minutes before Mr. Malfoy stopped, fixing him with his steely gaze. "We should be out of the range of Draco's eavesdropping spell now." Harry's eyes widened. "Don't worry. He would not have told you, but he does want to know what his mother and I have decided."

Harry nodded. It was odd, but he was not as amenable to Lucius as he was with his wife. It wasn't a negative feeling the man gave him, even after their short feud at the end of his second year. It was more that Harry didn't know where he stood with the man, but that couldn't be it either. He hadn't a clue how to tell where he stood with Mrs. Malfoy, but speaking to her was much, much easier than the man before him.

"Are you done over-thinking?"

Harry flushed, before nodding. "Yes, sir. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. Narcissa has warned me that you tend to become marginally... anxious when left to your own thoughts."

Harry couldn't dispute that, so he merely blushed further.

"Do you realize the position you placed my family and I in?"

The man's face was impassive, his hands linked loosely before him, pale grey robes rippling in the breeze lighting around the corner of the house. As hard as he tried, Harry could not not here the double question in that. It seemed ... ambiguous, as if there was more than one answer to it, and none would necessarily be right.

It occurred to him that he was both seeing plots within plots and over thinking as both older Malfoys now thought he did, and so Harry answered. "I understand that you've now a choice to make. Or maybe several choices. You had no intention of letting Draco join V- the mouldy one, so you would have had to either defect or go into hiding or something in a few years in any event. You didn't know he was a half-blood, and so now your doubts in his sanity, his power, seem founded. You didn't want to join Dumbledore's side, which is why you were on the fence for so long, and I've given you a way to stay away from that: me, Dumbledore's prime weapon, or so he thinks. I understand that I've made you realize more options than you thought you had, and that you are being cautious, as you should be, because no matter what you choose there is no going back. I understand that."

Lucius Malfoy simply gazed at him a moment. "Blatant disregard for holding some cards close to your chest notwithstanding, Mr. Potter, that thought process was positively Slytherin. I admit I will never understand how you ended up in Gryffindor."

"I asked for it."

"Of course you did. I can't understand why the hat actually _listened_. Additionally, I would have thought that after our meeting three years ago that you would have rather liked to see me lost to Azkaban." The man's voice had gone silky in a way that made Harry forcibly remember the oily bastard that had gotten away his second year. "What has changed?"

"Honestly, nothing. I still don't like what you did to Ginny. She would have died if I hadn't stepped in. Whatever feud you have with Mr. Weasley has nothing to do with her and to target her was both excessively cruel and barbaric, giving a child a dark object. But I don't think you knew what exactly it was. I think if you knew, if you really knew, you would have kept it. Whether to destroy it or return it to him I don't know, but I don't think you wanted Ginny dead."

"You're making these statements, these assumptions, of a death eater, you do realize."

"Yes, but I am also making these assumptions of a father." Harry shifted. "I've heard talk. Spent some time in the House of Black last summer. I know how hard it was to have Draco. I don't care how much you don't like Mr. Weasley, you wouldn't kill his child, not his only daughter."

"Will I have to curse you, Potter?"

"No sir. Family secrets stay secret."

"Hmm. About that, Mr. Potter. Your bedroom is to be kept clean at all times, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Breakfast is at eight every morning, do not be late or Draco will eat you instead of his eggs. Lunch is un-regulated but dinner is promptly at seven every evening do not be late, or Draco will eat you. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry blinked back tears, suddenly overcome. "Yes, sir."

"I will not monitor your personal hygiene schedule but I will say that if Narcissa suspects you of skivving off baths she _will_ assign a house elf to supervise."

"Yes, sir."

"You will find your owl among our others in the owlery, just call for her or ask Draaco to take you there. I suggest you contact your friends, preferably before your disappearance meets Dumbledore's ears and we have a larger problem on our hands."

"Yes, sir." He wasn't sure if he was happy or terrified, the way his heart raced in his chest, but Harry smiled and leaked tears in the best way.


	4. Chapter 4

His feet hurt.

It wasn't a bad hurt, not truly, but he'd never walked as much as he had in the past hour in one stretch. At the Dursley's he had been kept so busy that he never felt the pain in his feet until he collapsed halfway through the night.

Draco had only showed him half the grounds.

To be fair, Harry had asked for it.

After Malfoy Senior, Lucius, had instructed him to contact his friends, Harry had commissioned Draco to give him a full tour. The letters had taken less time than he'd thought to write up, full as he was of frenetic energy, relief and excitement all boiled into one. Plus, Draco had showed him a nifty magical gadget that wrote what he said, the original howler maker before some 'uppity new blood' invented the howler spell people used now. Draco had graciously left him alone for a full ten minutes, and Harry had talked himself blue into the device, and hadn't the heart to double check either letter, sending them off with a pristine Hedwig who had been absolutely smitten with a large black eagle hawk that gave Harry a far too knowing look when he came to attached the letters to her leg.

And then Draco had suggested a second lunch, and Harry had asked for a tour instead.

And he realized that although the older boy was a general prat, he had a right to boast about his home the way he did. Draco had probably only showed him a uarter of the entire malfoy estate, but what Harry had seen, the back lawn, the sprawling gardens, the abaraxan stables, had been magnificent.

But his side ached now, and something rustled in the hedges around them.

"Draco."

The blond turned around, all grace and poise, the high afternoon sunlight dancing around his hair. He took one look at Harry's red, blotchy face, and wrinkled his nose. "You're a mess, Potter."

"It's Harry, and I think something's following us."

"Of course something is." He pulled a pale grey handkerchief from a hidden pocket and dropped in Harry's head as he passed, grey eyes dancing along the hedge. "Morrow!" He stood in the middle of the path, peering into the bushes around them, the shape of his neck stiff and commanding. "Morrow, come here this instant!"

There was a mewling growl and a rustling from the right, then a pale gold winged cat fell out of the bush, one errant leafy twig somehow wrapped around a wing despite its attempts at shaking it off.

"Morrow, you great lump." Draco's voice had a note of fondness in it, and Harry watched as he droppe dto his knees, gently pulling the giant cat closer, long fingers carefully extracting the branch and petting the large head sneaking into the collar of his shirt. "Alright, you twit. Alright. Get off me before I'm covered in your hair."

Draco stood, the large cat resting it's head against his thigh, purring loudly. Harry smiled, despite the cold glare Draco pointed at him. "Say it and I'll kill you in your sleep, Harry."

Harry grinned, stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket. "You're so cute with your kitty, Draco," he cooed.

"Shows how much you know." the blond boy stepped past him into the tall, ornately carved building. "Morrow is a Sphinx, you plebeian, and male. You're lucky he cannot yet understand human speech or you'd be dead by now."

"I thought sphinx were egyptian, and had female heads."

"The Egyptian breed is a hybrid, and rare. Morrow here is born of the pureblood genus."

"Pureblood," Harry mumbled ruefully.

Draco gave him a snooty smirk. "Jealous?"

Harry did NOT roll his eyes. "You mentioned a second lunch a while ago."

"Tired of being polite, have you. About time." Draco sauntered into the building they'd come up to, leaving the door open behind him. "Though you are frightfully thin, Potter. We'll have to fix that."

Harry grumbled good naturedly as he followed the boy inside, the cool air of the place chilling his skin as he did. "It's Harry, you twit." It was surprising, but a little not, how well he and his former antagonist seemed to get on together. Harry found himself remarkably less likey to snap at Draco's little snips, perhaps because he could tell that the boy teased more than he was serious.

The room had no other entry ways and no windows, panelled with a soft gold wood that bled into the deepest redwood on the floors. Draco stood at the center, a smug smirk dancing across his eyebrows. "Close the door behind you. It won't work unless you do."

Obediently, Harry shut the door, then shuffled towards Draco, slightly unnerved that the walls suddenly seemed to have coiled snakes hidden within the gold pattern, all who seemed to follow him with interest across the hall. "What is this place?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It figures you'd slip into parseltongue. You really must learn to control that, or Mother will have a fit. This is the transport room, which I'm sure answers your question. Come closer, you've got to stand on the dais for it to work."

Harry shuffled closer, glad the dais was as wide as Hagrid's arm-span or larger, and so he didn't have to get too close to Draco and his slightly possessive cat. Morrow stood planted in front of and between Draco's feet, eyeing Harry as if he truly did want to eat him, and would if he got too close.

The tiles beneath his feet instantly shifted, smoothly slipping from a golden circle to a great bronze square set into the floor. Draco smirked at his mystified expression and stalked towards the door, throwing it open before walking out.

Harry followed cautiously, and could only stare in amazement as he stood looking into another room, ornately furnished, that looked into a wide open room with a glittering chandelier and massive windows all along the part of wall he could see. Harry swallowed, feeling the jittery tenseness fill him up on the inside. He was fine, he knew, even though he felt clumsy and out of place walking towards Draco who oozed class and perfect upbringing in his tailored robes and perfectly coiffed hair wafting in a non-existent wing. Harry was fine, and he knew it, even as Morrow stretched in a way that was practically obscene and launched himself into the air, perching on a wing of the expansive chandelier in a purring flutter of wings. Harry was absolutely fine, even as he shook and knew this was a massive mistake and he'd never fit in and soon the Malfoys would get tired of him or worse, use him the way he'd suggested the day before. Harry shook and the room around him swayed, Draco's face elongated and twisted and far too close to his, black creeping along the edges of his vision and then hands were on his shoulders and then the world went out.

MALFOYMALFOYMALFOY

He awoke in his bed. The familiar ceiling pattern spread out above him as he tried to acclimate himself to the decision he'd somehow made in his sleep.

He'd had another panic attack. He only knew that because Hermione diagnosed him after the Christmas feast last year. He'd forgotten to withdraw money from his account and hadn't been able to buy presents and had somehow worked himself up more than he'd been able to hide. He'd usually been able to hide it. It seemed to be getting worse. Anxiety. Harry hadn't brushed it off, but he certainly hadn't paid it much mind.

It seemed it was coming back to bite him.

He shifted beneath the covers, a restless itching creeping into his limbs, his heart starting to race. He was defective. A freak, just like Vernon said. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, curling onto his side, kicking at an invisible fear that tried to latch onto his ankles and pull him down, down, down...

There was a hand in his hair.

His eyes snapped open, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to shift away at the slightest sign of threat. the hand paused, then moved again, passing through his hair from the crown of his head toward the back, fingers untangling a knot there before moving to the front, warm fingers gently brushing his bangs away from his forehead.

He didn't know that arm, but something about the movement, the touch, made his eyes burn and a lump claw up in his throat. His eyes squeezed shut of their own accord, stubborn tears leaking out between their folds and Harry shifted, turning away to hide his face in the pillow. Narcissa, it only could be. Mrs. Malfoy shifted, her weight making the edge of the bed dip, and then the hand was back, one in his hair, the other on his shoulder, and there was a heaving, gasping sort of need to breathe, shortness of breathe choking him, choking him and Harry gasped, hot, sticky tears soaking into the pillow, a low primal sound leaking out of him despite him trying to stuff them back in. He couldn't cry, couldn't cry, /freaks weren't allowed to cry/, and then he couldn't hold it back, couldn't tamp it down, gasping and sobbing into the pillow, forgetting everything else but the empty, empty fact that he didn't belong.

When he woke up Narcissa was still next to him. The pillow was a different color than he'd remembered falling asleep on. Morrow lay curled up in the center of his back, purring.

It took a moment for Harry to gather the courage to turn around and face the blond woman, wilfully ignoring the fluttery feeling in his stomach. Narcissa sat in the same chair as before, a small pile of books next to her hair and a long ream of parchment leading off the miniature desk thing attached to the arm and rolling under the bed. Half of it was filled with parchment already, and Harry felt an insane urge to grab it up and read it all.

His head felt kind of foggy. He didn't know the last time he'd cried, really just cried without having to stuff it down because of yelling relatives or life-or-death situations. He took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair. Morrow, whose bulk covered Harry's back and thighs, shifted, stepping forward to groom him, the animal's rough pink tongue scrapping over his ear and into his hair. Harry snorted and scooted away, and Narcissa looked up.

"Are you feeling better now?" There was a softness to her that hadn't been there before, Harry absently noted as he futilely tried to evade the persistent sphinx. Her eyes shifted over his form with a light that hadn't been there previously, one Harry wasn't sure he had ever seen - on anyone. There actually seemed to be thoughts passing behind them now, rather than an the blank canvas she'd presented before. It was curious. Was this the 'family' face? Lucius had been similarly soft with him, though Harry was basing his assumption on his last interaction with the man, a the Quidditch World Cup.

Morrow suddenly tired of his struggles and planted one giant paw on Harry's shoulder, effectively pinning him to the bed on his back before settling his golden bulk across harry's chest and dedicating himself to grooming the teen's hair. Harry huffed helplessly, and soft laughter came from the other side of the bed. Narcissa smiled down at him, an honest to goodness smile, and Harry felt the world tilt a little off center.

"I'm afraid you have to let him. It's not documented, but I believe this is his way of claiming you; he did the same when we bought him for Draco, except they were both infants then."

Harry glared up at the tufty-haired chin of the exotic pet, and grumbled. Narcissa found it amusing. "I take that you mean you are feeling better. Care to tell me what caused your collapse to begin with?"

Morrow's collar suddenly began absolutely fascinating. it had chain links and golden rope of all things, minuscule charms dangling and -

"Harry. I know you can hear me."

"I don't really want to talk about it." He shifted. "Ma'am."

"I'm sure. Young men tend to feel as if they're too evolved for emotional discussion, but I disagree." She tapped the roll of parchment, Harry saw out of the corner of his eye, and it rolled in on itself, moving to perch atop the pile of books at her feet. "However, something must have set you off. Draco said you were fine one moment, crying the next and then you lost consciousness." Harry refused to meet her gaze but could feel it piercing the side of his face. "You came here for us to help you, did you not? We cannot do that if you continue to hide things from us."

"I told you everything already."

"I think you told me almost everything. I think there are some things you are keeping close to your chest, and some things you are not even aware of. Your imbalanced sense of anxiety being one of them."

Harry squirmed, fighting a blush. He supposed it was fairly idiotic to not mention that, considering he'd passed out twice now. "Sorry."

"I would prefer the phrase 'I apologize', but I accept it all the same." Her hands fluttered a moment before settling on her knees. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

There was nothing Harry wanted to tell her, but he could hardly tell her that. "I can't swim. Sometimes I can't sleep and my leg hurts when it rains."

"I'm well aware of your physical deficiencies, and they will be rectified shortly." Narcissa studied him a moment, took in the way Morrow had now moved to making sure Harry's ear was cleaned to his specifications. "Are you able to tell me what upset you earlier? The sooner we address this, Harry, the sooner we can go to dinner."

And there it was, the door he wish hadn't been opened. What could he do now? "This was a mistake, mrs. Malfoy. I wasn't thinking right when I asked for this, I didn't consider everything, I didn't think - "

"Well, of course you didn't. You're an adolescent, a child; I'd no sooner expect you to account for every eventuality of your potential decisions than to sprout wings and fly." She considered him a moment, then moved to perch on the edge of the bed, dragging her voluminous skirts up along the edge and sitting with her legs folded at the ankles, her knees poking out on either side of her, the deep green of her clothing offsetting the cream of his sheets. "Now, what exactly was the mistake you speak of?"

Harry simply blinked at her a moment, completely floored by the absolute casual nature of the woman's actions. Definitely, they had reached some sort of agreement about him, and the lines drawn between outsiders and their own had been dropped, somewhere. But then her slim eyebrows rose to her hairline and she seemed to embody impatience, and Harry cut that train of thought off in order to speak.

"Coming here. I mean, I don't fit in. I thought it was a good idea, get away from Dumbledore who'd only send me back to my uncle, have a summer where I didn't have to worry about not getting enough to eat or taking the blame for something I didn't do, any of that, but we were coming into the house, from the room out by the winged horses and it just hit me, Draco grew up in this, you're all so, so rich, and I'm this weird thing that just showed up on your doorstep and - "

Warm fingers covered his mouth, and Harry blinked back tears. "I need you to breathe, Harry."

He nodded, fighting down the crushing feeling in his chest. Morrow had moved to curl up over his head, purring loudly into his ear, and Harry used the sound to settle himself, to focus, push away the swooping feeling of dropping into nowhere. "Sorry."

"None of that." She brushed his bangs aside, cupping his face. "I cannot deny that I never would have thought to bring you home, sanctioned by Dumbledore or not. Before yesterday we stood on opposite sides of a war. However, you are perfectly within your rights to feel out of place. You have been here for all of thirty hours, and truthfully, our wealth is routinely overwhelming to other affluent wizarding families." She considered him a moment, eyes so warm that Harry squirmed. Then, "Do you wish to have your godfather over for dinner? I'm sure we can arrange for him to disappear for a few hours without certain meddling wizards finding out."

He could barely speak, his heart suddenly beating loudly in his ears. "You-you can do that?"

"You will find, child, that a mother can do many things." With a gentle pat of his cheek, Narcissa slid to the floor, arranging her skirts appropriately before looking up. "time for dinner. You may want to wash away Morrow's attentions, and follow him to the dining room when you are done." Morrow rumbled approvingly from above Harry's head.

"And Sirius?" He couldn't help but get his hopes up, he couldn't. Sirius was the one link to his parents he still had contact with; with his latest decision throwing him for a loop, Harry needed that stability, even if the man couldn't stay permanently.

Narcissa smiled. "Leave that to me."


End file.
